by Ward, H. M.
Looking into his eyes, I say, “Tell me your name.”
He looks surprised for a second and then says, “Mr. Jones.”
The corner of my mouth tugs up slowly. He’s lying. We’re both demented lunatics because we both seem to like it. “Mr. Jones, will you please drop me off at Frist and Lexington?”
“By the college?”
I nod. “Yup.”
“No problem. I was headed that direction anyway.”
“You were not,” I say and follow him to his bike. Suddenly I notice my dress and sneakers, and my total lack of the correct kind of clothing. The dress is sheer. It’ll blow up to my waist again. Plus I have no jacket and the weave on this sweater is so lose you could throw a rock through the holes.
As if he can read my thoughts, Mr. Jones opens a saddle bag and tosses me a jacket. It’s some kind of microfiber. I slip it on. It’s thin, but it’s warm. I swing my leg over the back of the bike and tuck my skirt in as tightly as possible. He feels me moving around after starting the bike. “You ready?”
“Hold on. I’m trying to get my skirt to stay up.”
He laughs. “That sounds so wrong.”
“Yeah, well, I bet you wish I was flashing you right now instead of all the cars driving by.”
He looks over his shoulder at me before flipping his visor shut and says, “I can feel your thighs around me. I’m good.”
Before I can say anything, the bike jerks forward and cuts into traffic. I cling to his back and tighten my knees against his sides. Bastard.
9
Mr. Jones slows the bike in a semicircle at the front of campus. Half frozen, I slip off the back and jump up and down trying to warm myself. The skin on my face and legs is totally numb. I can’t feel anything.
He lifts his helmet off and says, “Sorry I didn’t have pants.”
“If you had spare pants, I don’t think we could be friends.” I shiver and rub my hands over my arms.
He smiles at me, sets the helmet on his seat, and walks over to me. My heart slams into my ribs and I stop jittering like a Chihuahua. The way he does it is smooth, slow. Each step toward me makes my heart pound harder. His eyes lock with mine and make me melt. The playful smile on his lips makes me want to know him more. Before he does it, I know I want his arms around me, so that when they slip around my waist, it feels good. He’s so warm and smells like heaven. His scent hits me hard and I can’t help but inhale deeper. His fingers brush against my cheek as he slips his hand into my hair.
Pulse pounding violently, I remain transfixed by his eyes. He lures me in, so slowly, and right before our lips touch, he stops. His dark lashes lower and he hesitates. I feel his breath slip across my lips in a warm rush. He breathes, “Sorry,” and pulls away.
Every inch of my body wanted that kiss. I don’t know what happened. I blink and look away. His hands slip from my body and the cold air makes me shiver. “For what?” I ask, unable to let it go. I don’t want to beg for a kiss, but I can’t let it slide.
His eyes flick up. He holds my gaze for a moment and a surge of heat passes between us. I want to reach out and pull him into my arms. The way he looks at me, the way his shoulders slump forward, makes him look beaten, like he needs me. The reasonable part of my brains asks, Are you insane? She’s so annoying. It’s just a kiss and yes, I am. Shut up.
He smiles sadly at me and kicks something on the ground with his boot. “Nothing, it’s just that I don’t even know your name, and then I try to kiss you after you had the worst day of your life. That’s kind of scummy of me.”
“The worst day of my life was yesterday, if you’re basing your decisions facts.” I step toward him, wondering if this is a game and that I’m being played. “And my name is…” Rationality says not to tell him, but I like him. He’s more than attractive, there’s more there. “Avery.”
He looks at me and says, “Sean.”
I smile, saying, “Sean Jones, chivalrous motorcycle man with only one pair of pants.”
He laughs and I smile in response. I step closer to him and look up into his crystal blue eyes. I take his jacket in my hands and pull him to me. Sean doesn’t hesitate this time. When I press my lips to his, he kisses me back. It’s so sweet and gentle that I want to die. That kiss makes every part of me feel light, like I’ll float away. When his hands find my face, he holds me gently, trailing his finger along my jaw and back into my hair. It’s a sweet kiss, a chaste kiss, but it leaves me breathless and wanting more.
Sean steps away from me, reaching for his helmet. “Your kiss is addictive, Avery Smith.”
I smile at the use of my fake last name, and at the way he says he likes my lips. “Likewise.”
I don’t know what I think will happen next, but when Sean turns to leave, my heart falls into my shoes. That’s it? He’s leaving? I don’t get it. The only thing that I can think is that he doesn’t want me. Dejected, I step up onto the sidewalk. I turn away from him and start to head toward my dorm.
“Miss Smith,” he calls after me and I turn around. A gust of wind catches my hair, making the long dark strands streak like inky streamers against the sky. “It’s been a delightful evening.” He grins at me before flipping his visor shut. The engine on his bike roars and he’s gone.
I don’t mean to, but I watch him leave until the taillight is lost in traffic.
What am I doing? I’m infatuated with a guy that wants hookers, rather than women. Women can be hookers too, genius.
I have no idea what I think about anything anymore. My life is changing. I feel the telltale tilt as my world shifts to one side. The question is, what am I going to do about it?
10
“Technically, you passed,” Mel says to me as we walk toward our next class. She looks sleek, with her dark suit and short skirt. I’d die to have her shoes. They’re so cute.
Mentally, I feel like my brain already vacated my body. I sense it happening—I’m switching to survival mode. Funny, I thought I was already in survival mode, but I wasn’t. Not fully. The thick air, the unblinking eyes, the way the wind stings as it whips by my face. I remember how this feels, how my entire body seems to shut down just to make it to tomorrow. I’m not breathing. My lips are pressed into a thin line and my jaw locks. I feel Mel’s hand on my shoulder, but it doesn’t register beyond that. I hear her voice, but all I can think is that I’m screwed. If I lose my scholarship, I have no home—no future.
I ask the question before I think about it, “Do morals matter?”
Mel raises a perfect eyebrow and glances at me. “Are we having a philosophical discussion here, or are you asking something more specific?”
“What’s their purpose? I always thought morality was there to guide us, to help us. What happens when it doesn’t help? What happens when it’s just in the way?” I don’t wait to hear the answers. I already know what morals are for. I took that class. I know my heart and my mind. I can’t sell my body. It’s fundamentally wrong, but there’s a tiny thought that brushes through my head when I consider it that seems to think surviving is all that matters. There’s part of me that’s Machiavellian and doesn’t care what the cost is to get what I want, but is that so bad? I just want to live. I want the life that I had before. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. Now, it’s gone. I swallow hard and take off running. I run away from Mel and away from class. I run away from everyone and everything.
I need to think. I knew this was happening. For the past few weeks, things have gotten harder. My life is slipping away. I can feel it shifting beneath my feet like sand. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of everything. I hear Mel’s voice behind me, but she doesn’t chase after me. No one does. I’m alone. In a city of millions, on a campus of thousands, in a courtyard of hundreds—I’m alone.
Breathless, I clutch my books to my chest and run to the other side of campus, away from the dorms, away from my books and classes. I stop at the base of the tunnel that runs under the highway. I hate going this way. The cement tunnel stretches under the
street to keep kids from becoming road-kill, but it creeps me out. I enter the tunnel and walk down the sidewalk, listening to the sound of car engines running and horns blaring.
I turn the corner at the end of the underpass and am back out on the street. I walk a little further and head into a diner, and grab a booth. A waiter brings me a cup of coffee before I open my books and look at the test. A big fat 69 is written in red ink on the cover, a D. This grade will destroy me. It wasn’t that I don’t understand what I read; it was that I didn’t have time to commit the material to memory.
I stare at the paper, at the numbers and the rounded sweep of the prof’s handwriting. I feel like the answers are here. One class stands between me and my future. One class. One grade. One professor.
My fingers twiddle the corner of the page as I stare at it. After all this time, this is what breaks me—a fucking grade. It’s not fair. Life’s not fair. It’s hard, too hard to manage alone. I slip the test out of the way, moving it next to me, and grab onto the coffee cup. I watch people as they walk in and out, wondering if their life is as fucked up as mine. I wonder if things turned out remotely the way they’d planned.
No matter what I choose, I have a home until the summer. Then, I can appeal when they pull my scholarship, but the university usually doesn’t grant appeals. The scholarship is too valuable. They’d rather grant the money to someone who doesn’t work, someone who has family to help them pay for everything else. I don’t have those things.
I stare into space as I sip my coffee. Miss Black’s words echo in my head, It’s only one guy. And I’ve met him. It’s a hot guy with quite kissable lips.
A familiar voice startles me. “Cutting class? Ooooh, you’re gonna get in trouble.” Marty Masterson, slides into the booth opposite me, still grinning. He’s my lab partner this semester and is nosy beyond belief. I quickly slap my hand over my test and try to slip it off the tabletop, but Marty already saw it. He snatches it before I can say anything. His eyes flash with concern as he looks up at me. “Avery, holy crap. Are you all right? What happened?” He holds the paper in his fist and questions me like a parent would.
I snatch it back and shove it next to me in the booth. “Work happened. Life happened. Sometimes shit happens.”
“But you don’t get any do-overs,” he looks concerned. Marty takes off his scarf and puts it next to him. He’s wearing a corduroy jacket and looks like he belongs in the 70’s with that mop of a haircut. But he’s kind to me and always has been. I just can’t stand the look on his face, like he pities me, like I’m already dead. “Avery…”
“I’m already aware of my screwedness, so unless you have something else to talk about—” Socially oblivious is a good way to describe Marty. He seems like he’s gay, but hasn’t said anything about it. I haven’t seen him with another guy or a girl. He touches too much, but it never feels sexual. He seems like a large old lady in some ways. Like the exaggerated way he moves his head and his hands when he talks.
“I don’t, but you can’t seriously think about tossing me back out in the cold without a cup of joe?” He smiles at me and flags the waiter to order a cup.
“I suppose not.”
As the waiter comes over and pours black coffee into a bone white mug, Marty looks at me with pity in his eyes. “Stop it.” I say.
“Stop what? Stop fretting for you? Because that’s not going to happen. What are you going to do? Quit work? That’s what you have to do, right?”
“I can’t eat if I quit. As it is, this coffee is out of my price range.” I slouch and sink back into the seat.
“I’ll buy your coffee, but honey, you can’t lose that scholarship. Next to nobody gets it and no one ever keeps it. The GPA requirements are insane. It looks good on paper, but holding those numbers for the entire length of your degree plan is—”
“Insane. I know, but it is what it is.” My Dad used to say that. I smile weakly and look at my coffee. It’s black. No sugar. No cream. 100% bitter, like my life.
“What are you going to do?”
I shrug. “No idea. I guess I’m not cut out for this.” I don’t mean it, I feel like taking a pity trip, but Marty doesn’t let me.
“No sir. Don’t you dare start talking like that. You’re nearly done. It makes no sense to give up now. Maybe you can shift your work schedule to give you later hours? You can study in the morning and—”
“And never sleep. Yeah, I tried that. It’s not a good long term plan. There’s nothing…” my words fall off my tongue. I stare at Marty, wondering what he would do—if he would take a job like the one I was offered if it would save him. “Marty, how far would you go if you were me? I mean, if there was a way for me to stay here, but it was…” my lips twitch as I search for the right word.
He doesn’t even let me finish. “I’d tell you to do whatever it takes. Hell, sell pot to freshmen if you have to, but don’t leave. Once you leave, there’s no way you’re coming back. If you give this up, it means you settled for a life you didn’t want.” He looks at me oddly; his thick hand strokes his stubbled chin. Marty has that linebacker look with thick blonde hair and buttery brown eyes. Basically, he’s a teddy bear with uber-good perception.
I don’t look at him. I stare at the table and wish there was something else that I’d not thought of. After a moment of silence, I ask, “So, you’d understand if I did something stupid to stay here?”
He smirks, “As long as you don’t get caught.”
Maybe I’m asking the wrong person? I look at him for a moment before saying, “So, you’d do anything, as long as you didn’t get caught?”
“Maybe.” He lifts his cup to his lips, and pauses, “But not livestock.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Today sucked. “You’re such an ass.”
“I can’t help it. I’ve got a naturally assy thing going on.” He shrugs and smiles at me. Leaning forward he says, “Cheers, baby,” and clinks his cup against mine. “Here’s to you finding the perfect opportunity.”
11
A few more days pass and I know I’m killing time. I twist the card Miss Black gave me, eyeing the phone number like it has teeth. Nerves twist my stomach into knots. Stop thinking, I scold myself and press the digits into my phone.
Miss Black answers on the second ring. “Can I help you?” she asks.
I find my voice. “Apparently, you can. I want to know what’s next, if I accept your offer.” I know Miss Black knows who I am, that she expected me to ring her.
“Pictures, blood tests, and setting up a profile page is the next step. All of that is done here. Come in tomorrow night at 7:00 pm and don’t be late.” The line goes dead.
I look at the phone cradled in my hand. This is my choice. I choose not to sleep in a box. I choose to keep a roof over my head. I choose to be a… Mentally, I pause. I still can’t admit it, not even to myself.
I dress quickly and run out of the apartment before Dennis tries to talk to me. He’s Amber’s boyfriend, a short, stocky looking guy that flirts with anything that breathes. I can’t stand him. The only person who irritates me more is Amber. I tug a sweater over my head and pull on my sneakers. I lace them, hopping on one foot, and then practically running for the door. Amber isn’t here, but she gave her boyfriend a key. Of course, she didn’t ask me. I try not to think about it and make a beeline for the door.
Dennis is standing at the kitchen counter wearing nothing but a smile. Seriously. Pants, man! Put some clothes on. He starts to say something to me. I don’t look at him.
“Not now, Dennis! And I swear to God, if you don’t start wearing clothes when Amber isn’t around, I’m going to put crazy glue on your favorite seat and laugh my ass off when yours is stuck to the sofa.”
“Harsh. I’m just—” he says as I slam the door behind me and cut off his sentence. The guy is an idiot. He flirts with everyone and everything, and to top it off, he thinks walking around naked should be a sport. Maybe it should be, but not for him and not in my apartment.
/> I’m dressed comfortably tonight. I have to hitch a ride to get my car. I’m hoping it’s still there and the place didn’t tow it during the day.
Mel picks me up downstairs. “Hey, you ready?”
I nod. “Yeah, I couldn’t be more ready.” I walk around to the passenger side and slip into her car. Mel starts the car and stashes her purse in the back seat.
“Dennis?” she asks as I buckle up and she pulls into traffic. I nod. “Naked?” I nod again. “That fool needs to wear pants.”
“I told him that I’d glue his ass to the couch if he doesn’t cut it out.”
Mel snort laughs and cuts someone off. They blare their horn at her. Mel flips the driver off and bobs and weaves through the cars like a race car driver. “I bet he took that well.”
“I didn’t stick around to find out.”
“Uh huh, and with good reason.”
Mel drives me to my car. She looks around like she wants to ask me something, but she doesn’t. The parking lot is about half filled. My car blends in, well, as much as it normally does anyway. Thank God it wasn’t towed.
I slip out and thank her. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Good deal. There’s a party at Mack’s. You planning on stopping by?”
I shake my head. The wind picks up and blows my hair. I tuck a strand behind my ear. “Can’t. Gotta study.”
She nods. “You’re not going to work tonight, are you?”
I shake my head. “Nah, actually I’m going to give notice. I’ve had another job offer and I decided to take it.” I feel nervous and excited at the same time. If she wasn’t beaming at me, I wouldn’t have been able to say it.
Mel makes a high-pitched noise that sounds like a squirrel being hit with a tennis racket. She bounces up and down in her seat. “You told Black yes? Ah! I can’t believe it! Make sure to add goodie-two-shoes to your profile. Guys like that kind of wholesome—hey! What are you...?” I slam the door shut and smile at her. I wave my fingers at her through the window and hear some choice words through the glass.
